


Differences.

by LesboDyke



Category: Person of Interest (TV)
Genre: Emotional Hurt/Comfort, F/F, F/M, Hurt/Comfort, Polyandry, Rating may go up, asexual finch
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-09-03
Updated: 2016-09-03
Packaged: 2018-08-12 19:59:54
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 996
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7947151
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LesboDyke/pseuds/LesboDyke
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>On Haitus. Been made to feel like shit on another PoI fic and all PoI muse has fled.</p><p>Root and Shaw are fire and passion and long nights and sweet talks and the knowledge that they'd die for each other if they had to, with bruises and fierce clutching that leaves scratches. Candle wax and ice and a love for the ages.</p><p>Root and Finch are tea and books. Computer code that runs so effectively it's almost art, soft fingers soothing sore muscles from long healed wounds and philosophical discussions and the knowledge that they're both so important but insignificant all at the same time.<br/>Quiet and soothing, a love that calms storms and can halt murderous rages in their tracks.</p><p>Both are equally important to Root. Both are what she needs to keep her tethered to this earth and not float away into the haze of obsessive madness that's gripped her on and off for years.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Differences.

**Author's Note:**

> An idea that came to me while Shaw was missing was the idea of Root/Finch developing an emotional relationship, where the furthest they physically go is cuddling, as they're both in desperate need of that comfort from another person.
> 
> With Shaw's return, Root realises that her feelings for Finch are also real and makes a deal with both of them. While they don't need to be involved with each other, she's going to be involved with both of them, on very different levels.
> 
> This fic is emotional and (hopefully) deep and meaningful and while I appreciate that not everyone sees Finch's and Root's relationship the same way I do, I hope I don't get any hate for this.
> 
> All that out the way, enjoy the fic (Sadly, it'll be a few chapters before Shaw's return)

Harold Finch was a light sleeper. Even the soft sound of Bear lifting his head and shaking it would jerk him awake. So he’d been incredibly surprised when he hadn’t woken up until Miss Groves was working her way into his bed.

“Miss Groves?” His voice was groggy as he attempted to sit up, though that was made difficult by her hand on his shoulder, trying to keep him down.

“Shhh, Harry. Go back to sleep. I just wanted to lay with you for a little while.” It was then he recognised the feeling of sweat seeping through his pyjamas from her palm and even in the gloom, without his glasses, he could see the fear on her face. After the machine had told her to stop searching for Shaw and she’d returned to the subway, Harold had noticed that Miss Groves had been a lot more physical in her affections. And it suddenly clicked into place for him. She needed physical comfort, but had no way to request it from him.

“Of course.” Harold shifted in the bed, allowing her space and lifting the blankets. She slid between them and lay there, flat as a board. Harold hesitated for a moment before resting his hand on her stomach, remembering his dad and Grace both doing this for him when anxiety had bubbled forth and kept him awake. His hand moved in slow circles and he observed in amazement as her muscles began to relax slowly.

“Get some sleep, Root. You’re not alone.” It was rare he called her by her given name, but with this being the closest to any form of a relationship that he’d cultivated with anyone after Grace, he felt it was more appropriate than her surname. Harold received a soft grunt of agreement from the young woman, who’s breathing was steadier and was clearly far more relaxed than when she’d entered his bedroom. He should have noticed her need sooner, but she’d approached him now and he’d be certain that she didn’t feel alone again.

Morning arrived and Harold was surprised that Root was still in his bed. He was even more surprised to find them so close together, his hand still on her stomach and her back pressed to his front. Somehow, while they’d slept, they’d moved to their side and had ended up in the position he knew was called ‘Spooning’.

And Harold didn’t know how to proceed. When he’d shared a bed with Grace, he knew she slept like she’d been tranquillised, so he was safe to exit the bed and begin making breakfast for them. But he was unsure of how Root slept, and furthermore, he wasn’t entirely sure what she liked to eat. They’d only shared evening meals together before, as she was normally out of the Subway and gone by the time he awoke. Would she appreciate some of his scrambled eggs? Shaw had... No, he couldn’t think about that. He’d make Root some of his eggs. If she didn’t enjoy them, he’d keep them warm for John.

Harold was as careful as he could be as he moved off the end of the bed, locating his glasses and heading into the small kitchen. Although he technically had an apartment, he slept in the Subway more often than not, and so had invested in a mini fridge and a hotplate so that he could provide himself with breakfast.

“Miss Groves? Root? Breakfast is ready.” Harold crouched, as best he could anyway, beside the bed, shaking her shoulder softly and getting an annoyed grunt and a swatting hand in response. He should have guessed that she wouldn’t be much too fond of waking up. After all, in dreams, all those lost were returned.  
“Yes, I’m sure you’d like to sleep longer, but your eggs are getting cold and you really should try and eat.” He encouraged, smiling as she opened her eyes.

“You made me eggs?” Her voice was groggy and her hair was scattered all over the pillow and in that moment, Harold remembered that although she was a genius and many other things, she was also incredibly beautiful.

“Yes. According to those that have tried them, my scrambled eggs are wonderful, I thought you’d enjoy them for your own breakfast.” He was careful to avoid mentioning how much Shaw had liked his eggs. It was for the best not to force her to relive her trauma for now. The moment was too calm to soil with such heavy emotions.

“Thanks...” Root sat up, running her fingers through her hair and wincing a little as she caught a snag.  
“I’ll be right out, I just need to brush my teeth.” Harold nodded and moved back to the hotplate, making sure he had indeed turned it off, smiling slightly at the two plates of steaming eggs for them. It felt surprisingly homely, despite them being in a subway, on the run from an ASI who was out to kill them.  
“Smells good, Harold.” Root smiled as she approached him, brushing her hand over his arm as she passed to grab a fork.

“Well I hope it tastes good too.” Harold responded, lifting his own plate. He didn’t much _enjoy_ eating his food from his lap, but until he was able to get a table into the subway, he’d make do.

“Advanced coding, teaching, cooking. You really are the perfect man, aren’t you Harold.” Root smirked at him as she settled onto the bench next to him.

“I sincerely doubt that, Miss Groves. But thank you for the compliment.” Root sighed softly.

“Harold... I really do wish you’d call me Root. I mean... we’re friends, right? Friends use each others names, not their surnames.”

“I suppose. When you’re not out working for the Machine, I suppose I can concede to calling you Root.” A squeeze to his leg and a bright grin from the lady next to him greeted the end of his sentence.

“Thank you, Harold.”

**Author's Note:**

> Hope you've enjoyed this so far.


End file.
